


Judge Me Whole

by Sinope



Series: A Canticle of Transfigurations [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Rings, Cullen hurts so pretty, Dom/sub Play, Kali's Teeth Bracelet, M/M, Manhandling, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orlesian Tickler, PWP, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Safewords, Under-negotiated Kink, like seriously ALL PORN and NO PLOT, post-orgasmic tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3474146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinope/pseuds/Sinope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian wonders what an Orlesian tickler is, so the Iron Bull shows him.  Cullen serves to demonstrate.</p><p><i>My Creator, judge me whole: </i><br/><i>Find me well within Your grace</i><br/><i>Touch me with fire that I be cleansed</i><br/><i>Tell me I have sung to Your approval</i><br/>- Canticle of Transfigurations 12:4</p>
            </blockquote>





	Judge Me Whole

**Author's Note:**

> **TW:** The approach toward kink is in line with the Iron Bull’s behavior in the game. There’s a heavy emphasis on consent, but the participants do not always negotiate specific acts beforehand. If it bothered you in the game, it may bother you here; use your own discretion.

It started, as so many revelations did, with Cole.

“You act like you’re in charge, The Iron Bull, but it's really him. He decides when, and you measure it carefully, enough to enjoy, to energize, but never to anger. He's tied, teased, tantalized, but it's tempered to what he wants. He submits, but you serve.” As Cole spoke, Dorian could practically watch Trevelyan’s eyes glazing over with lust. He wondered if she was remembering her own similar encounters with Bull; the Qunari certainly seemed to sleep with everyone else.

“Do you mind, kid?” Bull asked as he stepped over the rocky terrain with unexpected grace, looking more bemused than annoyed. “If you take away all the mystery, it's not quite as hot.”

Trevelyan flashed Dorian a conspiratorial grin, then turned back to Bull. “Bull? Yes it is.”

A small smile softened the crags of Bull’s face. Oh yes, Dorian thought; those two certainly had tumbled at least once. “Right, my mistake. Carry on, kid.”

A short silence. Then Cole spoke again, “What’s an Orlesian Tickler?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Bull practically sighed.

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

 

…

 

The question that weighed on Dorian’s mind, as they set up camp that night, was the identity of the “he” that Cole had mentioned. It was, of course, also a question that he would never deign to ask, because that would imply an interest in Bull’s affairs that Dorian had always held himself above.

But in the process of trying very hard not to ask, Dorian found a different question slipping out. “So what _is_ an Orlesian Tickler?”

Bull’s hands paused in their deft knotwork. “Ask me when we’re back in Skyhold, if you still want to know.” His eye met Dorian’s for a brief moment, dark with enticing secrets, then turned back to his work.

 

…

 

It should, by all rights, have ended there. An idle question on the road was one thing; he didn’t want to appear obsessed with the possibilities. (Even if, in the privacy of his bedroll, his thoughts did turn in that direction. On occasion.)

But Dorian’s mind had never sat well with unanswered questions, and he could barely tame the stream of thoughts — and, worse yet, images — that sought to answer his query. He’d had his share of encounters with men, but they had never involved more elaborate accessories than a bottle of fragrant oil. Was literal tickling a turn-on for some people? Could it be a euphemism for a harsher punishment — he imagined, shivering, the slap of leather against bare thighs — or an instrument of pleasurable stimulation?

The thoughts drove him to distraction over the next several days. But worst of all were the moments when he caught Bull watching him thoughtfully, and Dorian felt piercingly certain that the Qunari knew exactly what was weighing on his mind.

 

…

 

When they finally reached the gates of Skyhold, Dorian’s calves complaining as always about the steep ascent, he had set a straightforward agenda for his evening. First, indulge himself in a lengthy hot bath. Second, pull on clothes that didn’t smell like weeks of caked-in grime. Third, stop by the library to see if the University of Orlais had finally sent over their copy of _De Motu Sphaerarum_. Fourth (despite his urgent desire for a glass of Rowan's Rose), avoid the tavern, which would certainly be loud, reeking of piss, and occupied by the Iron Bull and his Chargers. Lastly, fall into his decadently soft bed and enjoy a night of quiet rest.

Dorian had achieved the first two items on his agenda, and he was on his way to take care of the third, when he found himself wandering in an unexpected direction. Not to the tavern, of course — he hadn’t gone that daft — but back outside to the bracing spring air of the courtyard, and across to — well. Across to the quarters he knew housed the Iron Bull.

His attempts at self-deception — perhaps he merely wanted to stretch his legs, and anyway, there was no chance the rooms would be occupied now — lasted right up until he turned the corner and saw Bull standing outside his quarters, slouched nonchalantly against the wall. “There you are,” Bull said, as if they’d made some kind of _arrangement_ , and Dorian felt any semblance of keeping the upper hand slipping away hopelessly. At least no one else was in the corridor, thank the stars.

The uncomfortable realization made him hesitate just long enough for Bull to get the first word in. “Let’s set some rules up first,” he said, his deep voice matter-of-fact. “I know you’ve got watchwords in Tevinter; you got one of your own?”

Dorian was hardly unfamiliar with the concept, but his own encounters had always been sweaty and swift, nothing so dignified that they might require negotiations. “Not as such,” he said, then backed up mentally. “And I’ll also remind you that I haven’t even agreed to anything to begin with. I just happened to be taking a stroll.”

“Uh huh. Tell yourself whatever you want, ‘Vint. So until we establish something more specific, let’s stick with _katoh_ — it’s just Qunlat for ‘stop,’ but not something you’re gonna call out by mistake.”

“Hold up. Who said anything about shouting being on the agenda?”

“I did,” Bull smirked, and his posture shifted into something looming and hungry. Dorian shivered, his hindbrain warring between gut-deep fear and desire. “Trust me, if I want you to shout, if I decide to make you so desperate that noises just tumble out of your throat with each hard thrust — then I will.”

Dorian swallowed. “This is rather a lot of negotiation over a simple matter of intellectual curiosity.”

“Well, there are some ideas that you can explain easily enough with words, but some of them, you’ve gotta show them in action.”

“And you want to show me this — tickler. In action.” Dorian became aware that his body stood very rigid, like a nug about to bolt. All Bull’s possible tools of pain and pleasure raced through his thoughts, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel them all, didn’t quite think he’d like to be hurt, but the anticipation still made his breath catch and his cock twitch.

“Mmm,” Bull agreed, his expression dancing with an amusement that said he knew exactly where Dorian’s thoughts had gone. “Not on you, of course. I’m not sure it would be your kind of thing.”

“Not on — pardon?”

Bull’s voice lowered, as though, for the first time, he actually gave a rat’s arse about privacy. “Look, here’s the thing. He’s pretty new to this too. But he’s chosen to serve like this, and you are not going to shit on that gift. If it’s not your thing at any point, you say _katoh_ , no hard feelings. But you don’t laugh at him, and you don’t use this knowledge against him, ever. Got it?”

 _Him_ again — the same “him,” Dorian would wager, that Cole had spoken of before. “Fine,” Dorian said, hoping that he didn’t look as wildly out of his depth as he felt. “ _Katoh_. Let’s go.”

“Good,” Bull said, and he ushered Dorian in through the door.

 

…

 

Dorian wasn’t sure whom he’d expected. Krem, perhaps? A pretty young serving boy? At any rate, it wasn’t Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition. Cullen, who knelt on Bull’s bed, near to naked, with candlelight gleaming off his wax-pale skin as his smooth chest rose and fell with each breath.

Cullen’s arms were bound behind his back, and a dark blindfold covered his eyes. Other than that, the only strip of adornment on him was a gleaming metal band that wrapped around the base of his soft cock. Dorian couldn’t decide which sight was more captivating: the delicious opportunities promised by all that bare flesh, or the look of transcendent peace that radiated from Cullen’s face.

“He’s beautiful,” Dorian murmured in appreciation. At the sounds of his voice, Cullen visibly started, then forced his posture back into tranquility.

Bull stroked Cullen’s arm as though gentling a stallion. “He is. And he’s so good, too — just needs a little bit of handling to remind him that he doesn’t have to be in control of everything. Go ahead, touch him.”

Stepping up to the bed, Dorian hardly knew where to begin. At last, he touched a fingertip to Cullen’s collarbone, then let it trace, slowly, down his chest. He could feel the first glow of sweat, the tremble as Cullen held his position, and beneath that the muted crackle of an ex-Templar’s latent power. Dorian grazed over Cullen’s stomach — ticklish, he noted with a suppressed smile — and finally reached the length of his cock and the ring that wrapped around it.

Then he inhaled sharply. “ _Fasta vass_ , is that —?” The polished metal that circled Cullen’s shaft was only smooth on the outside; on the inside, a myriad of tiny spikes surrounded his cock, just on the edge of digging into the flesh. No wonder the poor man had held his erection at bay.

“An Orlesian tickler. Shiny mask on the surface, but full of sharp teeth once you get inside.” Bull’s grin revealed white teeth of his own. “You’ve satisfied your curiosity, ‘Vint. Now it’s up to you whether you want to go back and fist your own dick in your cozy bed, or pull off your boots and come in.”

With a temptation like that in front of him, it only took the briefest moment for Dorian to decide. “Well then. Never let it be said that a scion of House Pavus backed down from a challenge.”

Bull chuckled, a deliciously low rumble. “Good man. Now get those clothes off, while I take care of our boy.” He turned toward the bed, where Cullen still knelt, tempting as a wet dream. “Cullen. I’m going to watch you suck Dorian off now, nice and slow and sweet, got it?”

Cullen nodded mutely. His limp dick twitched a little, the first step toward arousal, and Dorian could see the instant when it pressed into the device’s teeth by the hissed gasp that quivered through Cullen. _Kaffas_ , but that thing was wicked. Wicked, and impossible to look away from.

“Your mouth’s gonna be busy,” Bull continued, “and saying your watchword might be tough. So I’m going to put a prayer stone in your hand. If it gets to be too much, you just let go, and everything stops. You understand?”

Again, Cullen nodded. His body brought to mind the silent eternity after the penultimate word in a spell, when boundless power hovered in the air, waiting for the final word to blossom into release. Without removing his blindfold, Bull reached behind Cullen and untied his wrists, then guided — practically lifted — Cullen into a new position, tying him expertly in place. When Bull had finished, Cullen lay on his back, head reaching just over the foot of the bed, so that it tilted back and exposed his pale throat. His arms were fastened, one to each bedpost, and Bull pressed a smooth prayer stone into one hand. “You look gorgeous like this, _kadan_. Suffering for me so beautifully.” Bull pulled off his pants — the only remaining clothing he wore — and climbed onto the bed, kneeling so that Cullen’s knees were trapped between Bull’s thighs to immobilize him completely. His lips were parted, pink and plump and perfectly positioned for Dorian’s use. 

Dorian had seen Bull’s cock before; during weeks out in the wild, binding each other’s wounds and exulting at the sight of a clean stream, body modesty evaporated quickly. But he’d never let his gaze linger the way it did now. Bull held his cock in his hand, lazily stroking it as his gaze swept over Cullen’s body. The contrast couldn’t be more exquisite, Dorian thought: Cullen’s member was soft and pale, bound by the gleaming metal band, while Bull’s lengthy cock had already started to thicken in his own grip. Blood flushed Bull’s gray skin dark.

“You planning to do something today, or just admire the view?” Bull’s words cut into Dorian’s thoughts, gravelly with unspoken command. “‘Cause my boy’s got the sweetest mouth, and if you don’t plan to put it to use, I might have to do it myself.”

Again, Dorian could see the effect that Bull’s words had on Cullen; the softest of whimpers escaped his lips, followed by a louder groan when the tickler’s teeth bit into his swelling cock. The predicament looked so vicious that Dorian had half a mind to check in with Cullen himself, make sure he really did want this torture. But Dorian could see the way his knuckles clutched tight around the stone and the worshipful bliss of Cullen’s face, and yes. Yes, Bull had this under control. So Dorian stepped forward the final inches and slid his cock into the parted _oh_ of Cullen’s lips.

Perhaps thanks to the blindfold, Cullen seemed to struggle with a moment of uncertainty, a half-choked cough and deep inhalation through his nose. But he adjusted swiftly, ever the obedient soldier, and wrapped his tongue around Dorian’s shaft like a skilled pleasure-slave, all softness and slick warmth. “ _Kaffas,_ ” Dorian swore, the Common tongue abandoning him entirely for a moment, and he gave into temptation. Cullen’s tipped-back head allowed Dorian full access to the length of his throat, and he took advantage of every inch of it, thrusting in until he was fully buried. He felt richly aware of every sensation — the clutch of Cullen’s throat around his head, the press of his nose between his balls, the wet swipes of his tongue as they swirled and suckled and urged Dorian deeper still.

Dorian clutched one of the bedposts for support against the overwhelming pleasure, pulling out enough to let Cullen take in a few hoarse breaths, then fucked his mouth again, faster and less careful this time. “That’s good,” Bull said, and the raw purr of his voice should not have been so damned arousing. “Now watch this.” He kept one hand on his cock, rubbing it at a measured pace, but reached toward Cullen with the other and pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezing and twisting it with a sharp yank.

The effect was glorious. Cullen cried loudly around Dorian’s dick, the clench and vibrations bringing him that much closer to the edge. Bull only grinned and pinched harder, twisting and plucking Cullen’s nipples until Cullen was a sobbing, squirming wreck. “Just so you know,” Dorian began, and how did his voice get so hoarse? “Just so you know, I’m not going to last very much longer, so if you had other plans—“

Bull’s full attention sharpened onto Dorian, its effect breathtaking. “You can come now; I want you relaxed when I fuck you from behind while he watches.”

And at that — Maker above, that image — Dorian’s release was as sudden and inescapable as a blow to the head, and nearly as overpowering. He came down Cullen’s throat, feeling the man swallow as he did, and when he finally pulled out, he couldn’t tell whether his breath or Cullen’s was coming more raggedly. “You can’t just _say_ things like that,” Dorian panted accusingly at Bull, who simply raised an eyebrow in reply. Dorian conceded the point.

“Come here,” Bull said, and he gestured to the bed’s surface, where Dorian was more than happy to let himself collapse. Meanwhile, Bull got up, releasing Cullen’s legs, and went to unfasten his wrists and guide him into a more upright position, so he could lean against one bedpost. “Roll your neck to loosen it back up,” Bull murmured; his fingers smoothed over Cullen’s wrists, soothing the rope-chafed skin. Cullen remained silent, but he leaned into Bull’s bulk like an Elfroot vine toward the sun, breathing in deep, wet gasps. “You’re doing so well for me. I’m really proud of how good you’ve been. I know that my toy doesn’t make it easy.” Cullen nodded mutely.

Dorian felt uncomfortable, intrusive; it made no sense, given that he’d just fucked the breath out of one of them and was about to get fucked by the other, but the intimacy between them reached beyond the sexual. He must have indicated his hesitation with a shift in body language, because Bull looked up briefly and met his eyes. “Don’t worry, we both want you here for this. Let’s just give Cullen a minute before we get to the part where we torment him again.”

“Mmmm,” Dorian agreed. He felt a smile bloom lazily over his face. “You’re right, by the way. He does suffer beautifully. I suppose they cover that in Templar training?”

“Not just that. I’ve fucked Templars before. Cullen … Cullen’s something else.” Bull stroked Cullen’s hair with clear affection. “You know, he hasn’t let himself get off since you and I left for Crestwood. I offered to take the edge off tonight before he modeled the toy for you, but he likes to earn his release.”

“Our brave Commander, prone to self-torture? I would never have guessed,” Dorian said archly. He stretched his arms out, then laced his hands behind his head, sprawling in a way he knew others appreciated — and the approving look on Bull’s face said he was no exception. “Now, I believe that you mentioned a plan to make sure he earns his reward?”

“Eager,” Bull said. “I like it. Just need to get our boy comfortable for the show.” Bull reached beside the bed for a waterskin, opening it and pressing it to Cullen’s lips; he lapped at the drink like a Mabari pup. “Now Cullen, I’m about to take your blindfold off, so close your eyes and only open them slowly.”

By the time that Cullen’s eyes had fluttered all the way open, Bull was behind him, refastening him with both wrists tied behind the bedpost. Cullen’s full gaze rested on Dorian, his pupils wide and stunningly vulnerable. Dorian had always known the Commander was pretty, of course, but looking like this, he could understand better how someone might lo— how someone might grow rather fond of the man. “You’ve been putting on quite the show for me,” Dorian said, and Cullen’s cheeks flushed. “No, no, that’s a very good thing. Believe it or not, I don’t _always_ have to be the center of attention.” At that, a smile — very small, but there — dimpled Cullen’s cheek for a moment. “So are you not allowed to talk, or just exceptionally speechless?”

“It’s a mutual decision,” Bull said, testing the strength and comfort of Cullen’s bonds. “Talking takes him out of the headspace he wants. And I like seeing it when he’s down that deep — he doesn’t need to talk to be obedient.”

“Well, if you’re expecting _me_ to stop talking, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Yeah, I had that one figured out. That’s okay, though. What you need from this is different.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow. “And what _do_ I need, since you seem to have this figured out?”

Bull made his way back to Dorian at the head of the bed, rolling his shoulders in a way that made his cock bob shamelessly against his stomach. “You’re not about testing limits, giving up control of yourself to find who you are underneath. You just need the freedom to want.” He paused, then circled Dorian’s wrists with his thick hands, the grip gentle but steely-solid. “I’m betting you’ve spent so much time hearing crap about what you _should_ want that it’s hard to let go enough for what you _do_ want. So you’d rather push back and play like you’re resisting, use your clever ‘Vint words, while letting me take and take and take.”

Dorian’s breath caught. The mesmerizing certainty in Bull’s words almost distracted him from the unexpected shock of emotions elicited by Bull’s grasp. It felt almost like the memory of falling in love for the first time — a gut-punch of near painful want, salted with fear and sweetened with the promise that he could let himself fall and be caught. Bull’s hands felt safe, in a way that no one trying to restrain Dorian ever had before.

When Bull’s speech had finally, fully sunk in, he tugged Dorian out of his sprawl by the wrists. “Now. On your hands and knees for me.”

The position that Bull manhandled him into was so perfect that Dorian almost found himself impressed. His arse had been raised obscenely in the air, while Bull pushed his shoulders down into the bed and held his arms above his head with one hand. The position left Dorian’s face pressed sideways into a pillow, breathing in Bull’s scent while he watched Cullen taking in the scene with anguished want. Somehow his gaze made Dorian feel less humiliated — a lucky prize, not a helpless victim. (The appreciative kisses that Bull pressed against his neck and back didn’t hurt.)

Bull had spread his knees, exposing Dorian’s arsehole so utterly that Cullen could surely see every detail. Even so, the first oil-slicked finger came as a surprise, and Dorian shuddered beneath Bull’s immovable bulk. When it came to sexual preparation, in Dorian’s experience, men fell into two categories: either they pushed their way in like a druffalo in an apothecary, oblivious to or even enjoying the pain that resulted, or they went so slowly from hesitation that Dorian found himself falling asleep. Bull did neither. His finger rubbed against Dorian’s hole to accustom him to the touch, then pressed inside firmly, sliding without hesitation to the sweet spot that made Dorian arch his back and groan against gritted teeth.

As a man on the unfortunate side of thirty, Dorian knew that his body’s responsiveness had its limits. But Bull seemed intent on testing them, curving and stroking inside of him until Dorian hardly noticed the difference when he added another finger, then another. He could hear himself mewling, knees trembling, rushes of too-much pleasure sparking through him like lightning. He finally gritted his teeth, afraid of sobbing _stop_ if the overwhelming assault continued, and muttered, “Planning to get on with it sometime this year?”

“Eager. I like that.” Bull pulled his fingers outward slowly, so that Dorian could still feel their impression when Bull replaced them with his cock. And oh, that was _good_ , thick and blunt as his fingers but smooth and unyielding in its girth. Bull’s entire body covered Dorian’s, from trapped wrists to chest to thighs; Dorian felt both dwarfed and filled to the brim, utterly surrounded by Bull’s presence. Then Bull shifted his hips for his first real thrust, and words abandoned Dorian altogether.

Somewhere in the haze of pain-sweetened pleasure, Dorian forced his eyes back open to look at Cullen. The other man was sweating and trembling, his face pale with need. Further down, his cock twitched and flushed, trying for arousal but feeling the bite of those merciless spikes. If Dorian were in his place, he’d have his eyes squeezed shut, thinking of the least arousing thoughts he could imagine. But Cullen simply watched, riveted, his chest heaving with thick breaths, like a virgin sacrifice on an altar, and Dorian burned to watch him be consumed.

Bull’s thrusts escalated, driving balls-deep into Dorian with swift force. A touch on his cock jolted Dorian’s attention back to himself, and he realized that Bull had reached around him to cup his half-hard erection in an encompassing grip. “I can’t — too soon,” he gasped.

“That doesn’t sound like your watchword,” Bull said. He gave the cock a firm stroke, and Dorian sobbed.

Dorian felt himself plummet into a haze of fucking, hot with friction and dripping sweat, unable to move or come or do anything but take what Bull gave him. Two hours ago, he would have said that he was past the days of climaxing twice in one encounter, but between the pistoning pressure inside him and the deft hand working his cock, he could eventually feel himself stiffening again; the diffuse waves of pleasure from being fucked were giving way again to the need to come.

“Not yet,” Bull grunted, pulling his hand away just when things were getting good. “Got plans for that.”

“You are —“ Dorian panted, “— the most intolerable —“ another gasp, “— Qunari I have ever met.”

Bull laughed at that, pushing in with a corkscrew twist that made Dorian whimper. “And you have the most fuckable ass of any ‘Vint I know. It’s a crime against nature that you hide this under your skirts.”

“They’re not —“ Dorian began, but was cut off by a slap to the aforementioned arse, just hard enough to sting. His muscles clenched instinctively, and he was rewarded with an approving growl from Bull. For all his faith in the stamina of the Iron Bull, Dorian could swear he felt the other man trembling against him, enormous thighs quivering as he penetrated Dorian again and again.

“Fuck, kid, you’re, you’re _perfect_ ,” Bull said, and with a wordless grunt, he plowed deep into Dorian and filled him with warm release. In the silence that followed, as Bull carefully withdrew and lowered himself beside Dorian, all three of their breaths filled the room, hoarse and unsteady. Dorian curled into Bull’s body; his arse felt sticky-slick in a not entirely pleasant way, and his cock was still hard and needy, but he felt too pleasantly exhausted to care.

After a few minutes, when his breath had returned, Dorian began to expect some sort of nudge from Cullen, still bound and caged at the end of the bed — a gentle cough, at a minimum. But Cullen kept his silence, even as Dorian could see the effort it took in his clenched muscles and pale lips.

Bull spoke at last. “I think that Cullen’s been very good for us. What do you think?”

“Why yes,” Dorian said, falling into his role in the exchange. “I’d say he fulfilled his tasks very nicely. Perhaps even well enough to deserve a reward.”

Bull sat up, stretching his muscles a little creakily, and stood up to go untie Cullen. “Really proud of you, _kadan_ ,” he said gently. “You’re stronger than even you know.”

When Cullen’s wrists were free, Bull bent over and unlatched the Orlesian tickler, opening it up on a hinge to release his cock. Dorian could see a regular pattern of reddish indentations everywhere the teeth had pushed in, and he winced in sympathy. After torment like that, even a gentle touch was bound to cause some pain. Somehow Dorian didn’t think that would hold Bull back.

“Time for some rearranging,” Bull said. “Always a little more complicated with three.”

“Make a habit of this, do you?” Dorian asked.

“Heh,” Bull huffed, busy massaging any strain out of Cullen’s joints. “Only when the extra logistics are worth it. Now, Dorian, you just lie down where you are and get comfortable. I’d be tempted to tie you there, but I think we’ll save that for the second date. Cullen, kneel around his legs, facing me. Show Dorian that pretty ass of yours.”

When Cullen moved into position, his knees spread to straddle Dorian, he gave Dorian a stunning view of his arse. For the first time, Dorian could see exactly what he’d been keeping hidden there: a round plug of glittering dawnstone, just wide enough to make sure that Cullen couldn’t forget about its presence. “You poor thing,” Dorian murmured, unable to suppress his serpentine smile. Bull really had trussed him up perfectly.

“Go ahead,” Bull said. “He’s been imagining your dick in him for longer than he’ll want to admit.”

“I do live to serve,” Dorian purred. He grasped the base of the plug, wiggling it a few times just to watch Cullen squirm, then carefully slid it out; it was still slippery with oil, and came out with little resistance. Dorian slicked himself up further with some oil that Bull handed him, then grasped those shapely hips and pulled Cullen down onto his cock until he was completely sheathed in hot, slick pressure.

“That’s good,” Bull soothed Cullen. “You like feeling him take you on both ends? Maybe next time we’ll do it at the same time, skewer you between our cocks so you can’t move forward or back without taking us deeper. Bet you’d like that. But right now, I want to see you fuck yourself on Dorian’s dick.”

Cullen began to obey, drawing himself up and then slamming down to take Dorian deep. “You are a man of many, _many_ talents,” Dorian spoke softly. He steadied Cullen with one hand on his hip, the other hand teasing circles around the tight rim where his arse met Dorian’s cock.

“He is.” Bull leaned in and met Cullen’s lips with a kiss just as his hand tightened around Cullen’s tender cock, muffling the cry that resulted. As their kiss deepened, he wrapped his free arm around Cullen’s back, halfway between a hug and a wrestler’s hold; soon he was using his strength to raise Cullen up and press him back down, taking even the rhythm of penetration out of Cullen’s hands. Dorian couldn’t quite make out the sounds that Cullen was making into Bull’s mouth, an incoherent mixture of sobs and pleas and groans of pleasure, but he could see Bull’s hand quickening in its strokes. “Don’t you dare come until Dorian does,” Bull growled.

Fortunately for Cullen, Dorian thought, that moment was approaching rapidly. His hand clenched on Cullen’s hip, fingernails pressing in, and the pain only seemed to drive Cullen wilder. So Dorian dug his fingers harder in, arching his hips to amplify each thrust, and Cullen panted and tightened and mewled, and Dorian was coming again — not the sharp lightning bolt of the first time, but a drawn-out rumbling of thunder through his veins. Before he’d even finished his release, Cullen’s groans rose to a crescendo as he came himself, a shuddering wreck. Then he collapsed forward into Bull’s arms, his chest heaving and his choked breaths wet, and simply wept as Bull stroked his back and murmured soothing words into his hair.

Dorian hadn’t ever seen sex end in tears before — excepting that one incident with an operatically wronged wife — but Bull seemed to have expected the reaction. Still holding Cullen, he guided him down to rest on the mattress, wiping the mess off his stomach with a rag. Bull curled his body around the other man protectively, then stretched across him to squeeze Dorian’s shoulder. “You doing all right there, ‘Vint?”

“Of course. Just gathering myself back together,” Dorian said automatically, then paused. His body felt wrung out and humming with pleasure, but an odd anxiety was twisting through his gut. A moment of self-examination identified it as jealousy, which was ridiculous; he didn’t want to steal away either Bull or Dorian for himself. He simply hadn’t had an encounter like this in quite some time (ever), and the selfish hedonist in him didn’t want it to stop (ever).

“There’s room enough here for three,” Bull said, and a tiny terrified part of Dorian knew that he wasn’t just talking about the width of his bed. He felt his words escaping him utterly.

Cullen sighed in sleepy exasperation. “Stop scaring him, Bull.” His voice sounded strange, half-hoarse and distant, but the tone was friendly. “What he’s trying to say, Dorian, is that you don’t have to go yet. That’s all.” 

A little of the fear dissolved, leaving physical exhaustion in its place. Dorian yawned. “Well, in that case, I plan to steal as many of your blankets as I can physically manage.”

“I’d expect no less,” Cullen said. He wrapped one arm around Dorian, his skin still flushed pleasantly warm.

Dorian wiggled into a more comfortable position, plastered his cold toes against Cullen’s calves, and decided that he could do far worse.

 

end.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) An “Orlesian tickler” was obviously intended as a pun off a French tickler, but that seemed wildly anachronistic to me (medieval condoms were usually a length of sewn-up animal intestines), so I went in a different direction. My version is based on a Kali’s Teeth cock ring, sometimes called a Kali’s Teeth Bracelet; [one version can be seen here](http://www.extremerestraints.com/cock-rings_34/kalis-teeth-chastity-device-4-rows_2811.html) (NSFW).
> 
> 2) After resisting for months, I started playing Dragon Age in order to have the background knowledge to write this fic. I’m not sure what that says about me.
> 
> 3) Fun fact: “piston,” though it now refers to an engine component, originally referred to the pounding of a mortar into a pestle. (Piston/pestle have the same origin.) So it’s not (too) anachronistic!
> 
> 4) If Bull/Dorian is "Adoribull," then clearly the ship name for this threesome should be "Adorcubull." Because Cullen adds that extra element of dorkiness, bless him.
> 
> 5) Many thanks to [growflet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/growflet) for her invaluable suggestions, and to [pearwaldorf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf) for looking it over and getting me into this whole mess. The dialogue in the first section is, of course, taken straight from the game itself. God, I love this game.


End file.
